


müde bin ich, geh zur ruh

by poppyharris



Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: (hint it's not sue), Feelingz, M/M, bang bang - Freeform, maybe ill do a second part, ooooh who is it, someone gets shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29929014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: dylan and eric go to rampart range. someone gets shot.
Relationships: Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold (implied)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	müde bin ich, geh zur ruh

**Author's Note:**

> important things:  
> \- i've started a new job. 4-8 weekdays. that means i lose a lot of time in the evenings to write. a lot of writing time now is gonna be when i'm at college or on the weekends.  
> \- i'm also entering the final stage of my higher education, which means i'm the equ. of a senior and about to do my finals. no i will not be shooting up my college u sickos  
> \- my discord got deleted. new one will like... appear at some point. maybe. hmu if you want it now.  
> \- ALSO!!! i'm considering publishing the notes about columbine and dylan and eric i've collated over the years, to help others get into writing while sticking to as much truth as you can while writing about school shooters licking each others' buttcracks

“eric, slow down!” dylan called out in front of him, his face red from lugging the duffle bag up the trail. eric looked over his shoulder, scoffing loudly.

“you said you could handle it! this is what you fuckin’ get for blowin me off last week!” eric yelled back, stomping further up the trail. fuckin’ idiot dylan. actin’ like he was all big and fucking strong and then abandoning eric to fucking sort out the stupid fucking clips. they didn’t need more fucking clips, eric needed dylan to step the fuck up and show up when eric demanded him to.

dylan, further down the trail, had begun to wheeze. it was 80 fucking degrees, dylan was wearing a thick fucking black trenchcoat and was carrying some heavy ass fucking guns. dylan felt bad for blowing off eric, sure, but jesus christ his arms ached.

“eric, please! just take your guns, at least?” dylan stopped, staring up the trail at where eric paused in his stomping.

“no, dylan! you got yourself into this mess, you fucking sort-“

dylan dropped the bag, and unzipped it. “eric, i swear to god. choose your next words very fucking carefully,” dylan hissed, reaching into the bag. eric paused, trying to work out what dylan was going to grab. he felt the heaviness of his dad’s beretta in his coat pocket. 

was dylan going to shoot him? eric wouldn’t put it past him, dylan was dangerously unstable sometimes.

dylan seemed to find what he was looking for, and eric felt like time was slowing. what the fuck should he do? he didn’t want to shoot dylan, but dylan had been so fucking low lately that eric was about 50% sure dylan would shoot him. 

dylan was pulling something out, eric had a second to decide.

the shot rang out over the trail. 

the ringing seemed to be amplified, bouncing off the trees that surrounded the trail. 

dylan staggered back, before dropping to his knees. eric stared at his shaking hands, before a cough from dylan reminded him of what he’d just done.

“oh my god, dylan!” eric screamed, running forward, just as dylan dropped to his side.

“fuck… eric,” dylan gasped, his hand pressing down on the right side of his shoulder. eric’s hands shook even more violently.

“i… i thought you were going to shoot me,” eric whispered, crouching beside dylan and looking over his body. red was blossoming over dylan’s torso, and eric became frantic.

he couldn’t call the police, they had a fucking duffle bag full of guns and pipe bombs, and eric had stolen his dad’s service pistol. “just breathe, please,” eric whispered, pressing down hard on where dylan had been holding.

“i was getting a,” dylan’s breathing was laboured, but at least he wasn’t dead. yet. “there’s a fucking bottle of 409 in there. you know, the ad? forgiveness,” dylan wheezed, looking up at eric. “forgiveness in a bottle.”

eric’s hands shook violently as he tried to keep pressure on where dylan had been shot. how could eric have been so fucking idiotic? of course dylan wouldn’t shoot him, dylan adored him. their relationship might be a bit… hands on at times, but eric knew deep down in his knotted stomach that dylan would never harm eric. at least not purposely. 

eric, on the other hand, had just fucking shot dylan. “call… the police, i’ll take the blame for the guns,” dylan wheezed, his hands covered in blood. eric shook his head frantically, pushing down harder. 

“no… no! is there a…?” eric looked around him, looking over dylan for the bullet. if it’d gone clean through… there was no way dylan couldn’t not survive. “did it go through?”

dylan groaned, forcing himself to twist slightly to the side. a second, small enough, hole was in his coat. eric breathed out slowly, keeping one hand firmly on dylan’s shoulder, and the other reaching for the bag. “we’ve got band-aids in the bag, i’ll put those on you and… and we’ll,” eric paused, pulling out the largest one he could find. “we’ll get you home, to the basement, and mom’s got sewing needles and we’ve got hand sanitizer.” eric tore the strip from one of the band aids and stuck his hand down the back of dylan’s shirt. 

dylan only groaned in response, with hisses whenever eric touched the wounds. he counted his blessings that no one was on the trail, or hadn’t come to investigate. they were on a fairly unused part of rampart range, and no one was coming out to shoot in this weather. the dirt bike guys were having a meeting, and eric knew dylan was the luckiest son of a bitch in colorado. 

they’d only been walking the trail for about half an hour, and eric knew roughly where they’d parked. it would be fine. it had to be fine. dylan couldn’t die, because dylan was eric’s. and eric didn’t want him to die.

eric couldn’t see dylan die. hell would freeze over before eric lost his mallory.

**Author's Note:**

> song: müde bin ich, geh zur ruh (tired, i'm going to rest) - nena
> 
> hype this shit up if u want a part 2


End file.
